a dream i cannot forget, a hope i cannot lose
by sujingsu
Summary: Albus Dumbledore loved too much. Because he loved, he hurt, and so he resigned himself to being loveless. Yet still he loved, and it would be his ruin. A scattering of scenes that encompass Tom's return from a decade travelling abroad to Albus's death and the aftermath that followed.


Notes:

A continuation of sorts that is vaguely set in the same universe as "i love you, professor. (please love me back?)", but very much **readable independently**. I imagine that incident allowed Albus to see the potential for something good to come from Tom, which later resulted in feelings that sprouted—as well as a much more painful heartbreak.

Tom was left with... something, hence his immense anger at Alphard, but he never knew what.

Lots and lots of quoting from the books and two from ilyp (italicised). Some applied to a different scene than they originally appeared.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction that uses characters from and the world of Harry Potter, owned by J.K. Rowling.

* * *

_What have you done, Tom?_

* * *

When Tom arrives in his office after a decade spent abroad, Albus is all too aware that Tom is no longer the eager, bright student he once knew.

His once handsome features are marred by what can only be the result of dabbling in magic darker than Albus wants to imagine.

_"The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom… I wish I could…" _

After Armando turned down Tom's application to become the next Defence professor following Galatea's retirement, Albus offered to let Tom serve as his assistant in Transfiguration to allow him to gain experience in teaching. Tom accepted, and for a while, things were good.

Yet Tom tired of it in the end, of course. So, he left. They could never stay together for long.

_"Nothing could ever happen between us."_

* * *

Alerted first by the fall of the wards around the Potter home, Albus rushes to Godric's Hollow. When he enters the property, he discovers that he is too late.

He is too late to save brave James, who lies dead on the living room floor without even his wand to defend himself, too late to save kind Lily, who lies dead before the crib of her son…

Too late to save Tom, struck by his own rebounded curse.

There is only infant Harry, crying tragically, not comprehending the death that surrounds him.

Albus does not know why, but he burns Tom's body rather than allow it to fall into the hands of the Ministry.

Later, the Ministry investigation concludes that the body must have been destroyed in some sort of magical explosion. Of course, that is not the case. The Killing Curse is said not to leave a mark, and though it is also said to be impossible to survive, it did not.

Albus will never speak of what he has done. It is only an innocent white lie.

* * *

Ten years later, Albus watches as Harry enters Hogwarts for the first time and is Sorted in the Great Hall. Harry sits under the Hat until he is almost a Hatstall. Albus sees Harry whisper something as if in argument.

_"GRYFFINDOR!"_

Despite the red and gold that adorn Harry's robes, Albus is reminded of a student he once had, decades ago.

Harry is, in many ways, like Tom on the surface, but he is also so much sweeter on the inside. He is everything Tom should have been—everything Albus wishes Tom could have been.

That year, as he stands in front of the Mirror of the Erised with Harry, he sees—what does he see?

He sees all of his regrets, every great failure,

undone.

He sees Ariana returned to him, his brother reconciled. He sees Gellert wild and free, away from the path that led to his imprisonment.

He sees Tom, who should have stayed. Who he should have convinced to stay.

_"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," _he advises Harry.

Albus believes these words deeply. He knows them to be true because he himself often becomes lost in wistful what-ifs and the unchangeable past.

He says it to remind himself as much as he does to remind Harry.

Yet he cannot help but to remember.

* * *

The Chamber of Secrets, reopened. A nightmare, revisited.

The Diary, destroyed, an ink-spattered hole at its centre (its heart).

The name emblazoned on its cover, _Tom Marvolo Riddle_, a ghost who has haunted Albus for over a decade.

It is a Horcrux. A Horcrux from back when Tom was still at Hogwarts as a student, if anything Harry has revealed is to go by. Albus recognises it, in fact—Tom used to carry it around in his fifth year, before the attacks. It disappeared inexplicably afterwards, never to be seen again until now. Now, he understands why.

He doubts Tom ever realised that he noticed it, but then, he did keep a rather close watch on him.

Yet how did Albus never see it before?

How did Albus do nothing to stop him?

Albus knew Tom was behind Myrtle Warren's death. Albus knew, even if he could not prove it—he chose to overlook it—to even believe otherwise in the absence of proof—

Proof that now lies before him. A Horcrux created from her death.

_"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." _

Tom chose all the wrong things. Albus never stopped him.

* * *

With the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, it has been an eventful year.

Still, the absence of Voldemort, who appeared in some form for the past two years… it unsettles Albus. He did not think it would be so easy to stop Voldemort from rising again.

With the destruction of the diary, is he gone for good?

Albus can only hope.

Still, for the sake of Tom's soul, damaged as it must have been by its splitting… Albus mourns him. The presence of the Dementors is an unpleasant reminder of the importance of one's soul—something, it seems, that Tom never understood.

_"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble?" _

Tom is always on Albus's mind. Against all odds, Tom has crept his way into his heart.

* * *

When Voldemort returns during the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Albus is… thankful, in some small measure, that Tom is not yet dead. Not yet irredeemable, his soul—

They will meet again, he knows. He does not anticipate the day.

Albus drowns himself in memories of the war in his Pensieve, hoping to find the resolve to face Voldemort once more, but it only makes his internal conflict worse.

Though he only views the memories containing the worst of Tom, he still remembers how Tom once helped to lead his class—how genuine his interest in magic was. It is all he can see. His memories overwhelm him.

_"Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it." _

(He just might cry.)

The Diary, he now knows, cannot have been the only Horcrux. He will have to begin his hunt for the other—the other_s _, if Tom has truly—

But then, Tom never did turn away from even the darkest, most perilous of magics, did he? He never did seem to have any sense for nearing the sun, not while he studied under Albus for that sweet, short while.

_"Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right."_

It would be so easy to give in. Albus cannot afford it.

* * *

The year after Voldemort's return, Albus withdraws from Harry. He finds himself in a state of grief for what is to come, the prophecy's words weighing heavy on his conscience.

He does not wish to steer another student astray. He has done enough harm already.

Albus fears that Voldemort might see his weakness, his hesitation, if he allows Harry to come too close—though perhaps Tom was always a lost cause, and Albus was foolish to have believed otherwise…

Still, Albus does not wish for things to end in Tom and Harry's mutual deaths, no matter how it seems they must. No matter what the prophecy proclaims.

Albus will find a way to save at least one of them. He might never forgive himself otherwise.

He is sorry for Tom, he thinks. He is sorry for the both of them.

Harry is a Horcrux, and neither of them would have wanted it. Tom must never know.

* * *

When Albus faces Voldemort for the first time in over a decade at the Ministry, he tries to be strong. (He doesn't want to face him).

Trying to reach Tom, he speaks to him as he once did, while Tom still studied under his wing—when he still had any semblance of authority over him.

_"It was foolish of you to come here tonight, Tom." _

Albus has to be strong, for Harry's sake, whom he loves as well (although differently, if he must admit it to himself, than what he has come to feel for Tom).

He has to be strong enough to once again strike down the one he loves… no matter that Tom has become all but unrecognisable. (Somehow, it is like that time in his office once again, when Tom returned to apply a second time for a position at Hogwarts, so different than Albus remembered.)

So, he cannot and does not show any weakness in his countenance. Only cold, cold fury.

(It ends with neither of their deaths, of course. Not yet.)

* * *

_"You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it." _

Albus loved too much, and once again because of it, he has broken, and he has hurt.

Sirius Black, another of his former students, is dead because of it, even if only indirectly. It does little to ease his guilt.

It was a mistake to stay away. He was weak not to face it. He was afraid.

_"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," says Albus hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess… that I rather thought… you had enough responsibility to be going on with." _

He was afraid to see Tom in Harry. (Tom was a brilliant prefect. Everyone from every House admired him.) He was afraid of seeing the same tragic tale repeat itself.

But, in doing so, he has caused something far worse…

* * *

Voldemort sends for him. A simple letter with a simple proposal that is all but. A peaceful meeting. A temporary truce. Resolution for what they could not finish at the Ministry.

It's so tense. There is danger in the air. Neither trusts the other, their wands kept near at hand. If either of them tries, they could surely find a way around the truce. Spells would soar. Yet they do not.

Voldemort does, however, promise Albus's death. He will kill Albus himself, he declares vehemently.

But Albus is reminded of peaceful times long gone… times when Tom was just his assistant. (Though he knows better now, for the evil within had been growing for years prior—)

Voldemort doesn't seem to notice a thing, though Albus is convinced his emotions are leaking into his expression. Voldemort doesn't seem to care either way.

But then, why did Voldemort ask to meet? Just to threaten Albus with murder? Surely this is too risky for only that.

(Albus will not speak of the Horcruxes, though he longs to ask:

_'Why, Tom?' _)

Without any warning, Voldemort pulls him into a bruising, hate-filled kiss. He bites Albus's lip roughly until it draws blood, iron, and rust.

Albus shouldn't be here. It was a mistake to come—

But in the midst of what is surely yet another war on the horizon, when they have come to meet in peace—

Can't he allow himself this much?

"I admired you," Voldemort admits quietly, after the moment—the brief bout of violence—is over. Nothing more is said.

They part ways, unsure of what they have gained or lost.

* * *

Albus is at the Gaunt shack in Little Hangleton, where Tom's parents once lived and where his father was murdered by his own teenage son.

He recognises the stone, just as he recognises the ring it rests on. Tom wore it for years; how could he not remember?

He's not sure why he puts it on. It's probably cursed. It might remind him of better days.

(It's cursed.)

He destroys it, of course. With Gryffindor's sword, impregnated with Basilisk venom—the ring gives a piercing, heart-rending shriek as the piece of Tom's soul within dies.

_How many times did you rip your soul apart, Tom? How many times? _

Severus tells him he does not have long to live. Albus can't even bring himself to blame Tom. The curse—its intricacy—it screams _Tom. _Albus knows his style well. He observes his withered hand pensively, lifting it up before his face, the decay that threatens a slow creep, a slow death. It is very—

_"Well done, Tom. Artfully executed." _

(Severus demands why Albus does not seem to value his own life—why he did not come to Severus earlier.

_"I… was a fool. Sorely tempted…" _

It is because he was weak, and is still weak.

_"Did you think that breaking the ring would break the curse?" _

The curse that Tom has cast on his heart? … No, it did not. If anything, breaking the ring has only tightened the grip of its claws.

_"Something like that… I was delirious, no doubt…" _)

Still, plans must be set in motion. Albus will save as many innocents as he can from Tom's path of destruction.

It is his penance.

* * *

In his meetings with Harry, Albus relives old memories of times past.

It is bittersweet, seeing what Tom could have become, the potential that was always there, buried under layers upon layers of darkness. It is bittersweet, knowing that it never could have been.

_"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?" _

Harry denies it, looking bewildered. But for a moment, Albus thought Harry might have understood.

Albus gives his heart away too easily. Harry is, in that way, quite alike. Albus is glad for his answer—Albus is glad Harry does not feel sorry for Voldemort, because that would only make his task monumentally more difficult.

_"Do not pity the dead, Harry, pity the living. And above all, those who live without love." _

Albus pities Tom, as much as he loves him.

* * *

_Albus watches her fly away, and as her silvery glow fades, he turns back to Severus, his eyes full of tears. _

_"After all this time?" _

_"Always." _

Albus's heart breaks for Severus, because he understands what it means—the pain and heart-wrenching guilt Severus must shoulder, now and—

Always.

And for Tom's own good, Tom must be stopped. (Because Albus was too weak, or too foolish to end it all sooner, or decades ago.)

He can only hope that Tom might still be saved. (It's probably too late.)

* * *

Seven. Tom has torn his soul seven times.

How? How could he bear it—did he truly fear no consequence?

Seven times Tom must die in pieces before he can face the final death. Seven times, before… before he will be damned, if he does not choose to save himself.

Albus wants to believe, but time and time again, Tom has refused to be swayed from his path. He will not choose to save himself. Albus resigns himself to the fact. Tom is beyond salvation—they are already cursed. They will rot slowly, as does his arm.

* * *

Albus brings Harry to the cave of Tom's childhood.

There, he is plagued by memories of Ariana, yet another regret that stains his conscience among many others; another child ruined under his watch.

_"I am not worried, Harry," says Albus, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you." _

He is not worried, because he knows it will be over soon, for the better or the worse. He has entrusted Harry with the future.

With the help of Harry, they return to Hogsmeade.

And when they see the Dark Mark hovering over the castle, at the tallest tower, Albus knows… it is time for him to die.

* * *

Albus is glad, somehow, that he will live to see neither Gellert nor Tom's deaths.

_"It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more." _

It is the known that he fears; the certainty of what is to come.

Albus is almost sorry that he should steal his murder from Tom, handing it over to unwilling Severus instead. (Tom, unlike Severus, would welcome it, though both might deserve it at this point, with all that Albus has done to them. It would certainly do little further damage to Tom's already ruined soul.)

Mostly, he's just sorry he won't see Tom again.

He wonders how Tom will react when he hears the news. Albus thinks he'll be surprised, although whether pleasantly, is beyond him. He hopes—he hopes Tom retains even a single trace of whatever they had between them once, but he thinks—no, he knows better.

Voldemort will surely be enthused. He promised, didn't he? Over the summer—he promised.

Albus will die, and with his death,

Tom and Harry will be set on a collision course that has been prophesied for nearly sixteen years.

_"Severus… please…" _

Please let him rest.

He falls over the ramparts with a wistful smile on his face.

* * *

When Voldemort hears of Albus's death from Severus, he wishes he could have done it himself. He wishes he could have taken Albus's throat in his hands and ripped it out himself, intimately, felt thick blood gushing beneath—

But alas, Albus is already gone… and so easily. He never expected the young Malfoy to succeed, of course. He only ever intended the task as punishment for his father's failure. Voldemort finds himself… neither pleased nor displeased, oddly. Just… sort of blank. But, he consoles himself, this is a necessary step in the war.

Gone is his greatest enemy, save for Potter… and soon Britain shall be under his control.

Lucius's pitiful showing a year ago matters little to him now. He sends Draco away, even as Severus pleads mercy for him, expecting Voldemort to be angry (because Draco did not kill Albus himself, as ordered). He is not.

He does not know what he feels.

(He never does find out about the ring. Severus does not tell him. In the end, Tom was the one that forced Albus to die, even if he could not be there to see the life fade from him… )

* * *

When Voldemort goes to Nurmengard in search of the Elder Wand, he does not understand what Albus ever saw in Grindelwald.

Grindelwald protects Albus, even after his death. Albus, the one who defeated him… going so far as to laugh in the face of death…

_so loved… _

… why?

* * *

Voldemort extracts the Elder Wand from Albus's tomb. He has not seen him in person since the day they met not long after their encounter at the Ministry. He remembers the taste of his blood, though the wound he left has long since healed over.

He did not attend the funeral, of course. He could have disguised himself, but he did not. Even after the Ministry fell and he gained control of Hogwarts, he did not return to what was once his home, and instead delegated the task of running the school to Severus, because there were too many memories there that he did not wish to have resurface.

… He leaves his first wand with Albus, precious as it is to him. Wandlore, he learned from Ollivander, says that a yew wand, when placed at its owner's grave, sprouts a protective growth. A sort of guardian after death. He thinks it might do so here.

He does not need it, as he intends never to die.

He does not need it, not now that he possesses the undefeatable Elder Wand. It is fitting, he thinks, that it should be left here in exchange—left behind as a memory of what once was.

He still does not know what he feels.

It is not remorse.

Once, ages ago, there was a boy already set on his dark path.

Once, the boy confessed with false words:

_i love you, professor. _

_(please, _

_love me back?)_

* * *

Notes:

Albus is much too late, of course. Harry asks Tom to show some remorse, but Tom chooses not to save himself. (Really, should anyone have expected anything else?)

I haven't actually read/watched _Cursed Child_, but I came across this one quote that is close to the theme of this work:

_"Of course I loved you… and I knew that it would happen all over again… that where I loved, I would cause irreparable damage… I am no fit person to love… I have never loved without causing harm…"_ (Dumbledore to Harry)


End file.
